There was one customer in the great country store, a stout old man, on the grocery side. His broad red face turned towards them a second, then squinted again at some packages on the counter. He was haggling for garden seeds. William Berry, who was waiting upon him, did not apparently look at his sister and Rebecca Thayer, but Rebecca had entered his heart as well as the store, and he saw her face deep in his own consciousness. Tommy Ray, the great white-headed boy who helped William in the store, shuffled along behind the counter indeterminately, but the girls did not seem to see him. Rose was talking fast to Rebecca. He lounged back against the shelves, stared out the door, and whistled. Out of the obscurity in the back of the store an old man's narrow bristling face peered, watchful as a cat, his body hunched up in a round-backed arm-chair. "Mr. Nims will go in a minute," Rose whispered, and presently the old farmer clamped past them out the door, counting his change from one hand to the other, his lips moving. William Berry replaced the seed packages which the customer had rejected on the shelves as the girls approached him. "Rebecca's got some eggs to sell," Rose announced. [Illustration: "'Rebecca's got some eggs to sell'"] William Berry's thin, wide-shouldered figure towered up behind the counter; he smiled, and the smile was only a deepening of the pleasant intensity of his beardless face, with its high pale forehead and smooth crest of fair hair. The lines in his face scarcely changed. "How d'ye do?" said he. "How d'ye do?" returned Rebecca, with fluttered dignity. Her face bloomed deeply pink in the green tunnel of her sun-bonnet, her black eyes were as soft and wary as a baby's, her full red lips had a grave, innocent expression. "How many dozen eggs have you got, Rebecca?" Rose inquired, peering into the basket. "Two; mother couldn't spare any more to-day," Rebecca replied, in a trembling voice. "How much sugar do you give for two dozen eggs, William?" asked Rose. William hesitated; he gave a scarcely perceptible glance towards the watchful old man, whose eyes seemed to gleam out of the gloom in the back of the store. "Well, about two pounds and a half," he replied, in a low voice. Rebecca set her basket of eggs on the counter. "How many pound did you tell her, William?" called the old man's hoarse voice. William compressed his lips. "About two and a half, father." "How many?" "Two and a half." "How many dozen of eggs?" "Two." "You ain't offerin' of her two pound of sugar for two dozen eggs?" "I said two pounds and a half of sugar, father," said William. He began counting the eggs. "Be you gone crazy?" "Never mind," whispered Rebecca. "That's too much sugar for the eggs. Mother didn't expect so much. Don't say any more about it, William." Her face was quite steady and self-possessed now, as she looked at William, frowning heavily over the eggs.